


Skin and Scale

by orphan_account



Series: The Foul-Mouthed Adventures of Ghost [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The pack has grown, now, and he must protect it.





	Skin and Scale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeasquidSnark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasquidSnark/gifts).



> This is SeasquidSnark (aweseeds) baby, we're just taking it out for a cruise. You should probably read Fang and Claw first or you'll be like "Why the fuck are they all talking what is this horseshit?"

“This is a terrible idea.”  Drogon was squared off against her mate, their snouts feet apart as they hissed steam and smoke at each other.

Ghost watched idly, the remains of a nice fat pig spread before him as he looked on.

“We must.”  There was such conviction in Rhaegal’s answering hiss that Ghost found himself surprised.  Perhaps his soul brother had found his fucking balls after all.  Normally Jon’s dragon was a pleasant sort of creature, certainly much more polite than his prickly, foul-tempered partner, but today he was in a right state.  “We can wait no longer.”

Drogon spared Ghost a withering glance, pretending as though she’d just noticed him there when they both knew full well she’d been complaining about his messy eating habits not five minutes prior.  Ghost snorted, glancing at the bloody mess on the snow.  She was just jealous, Ghost thought.  Silver Dany had given him this pig and it had made her dragon very cross.

“What say you, hound?”

Ghost looked between the pair, surprised the black dragon gave a single spare shit what he thought.  She usually just did what she wanted anyway.  And she had a mouth on her, that one.

And deep down, in the part of him that was bound to no human, the part of him that remained purely magic, purely beast, he held a deep and abiding admiration for her.  He’d never say such to Rhaegal, but it was an open secret between them all who the alpha was between the two.

He looked towards Rhaegal.  “Reckon he seems pretty insistent.”  Ghost paused, swatting a chunk of snout to the side.  That was his favorite bit, the one he’d save for later.  “But if you want me to settle this you might start with telling me exactly what you’re fucking off to do, don’t you think?”

Ghost sat back and waited, having seen this little dance before.  Dragons had secrets, just like every other creature, but they guarded theirs like people hoarded their metal bits.  But pack had no secrets, he had made that clear to them both, in their time together, in this new pack they had made.

They stared at each other as they always did, gold on gold, and with a heavy sigh Drogon finally relented.

“We go to make an egg.”  Ghost crept closer, his ears perking up, an interested curiosity building.  “For mother’s little babe.”  There passed, between the three, a reverant pause, because in this their hearts beat the same rhythm.  This was the final tie that bound them.

Three moons ago Silver Dany had birthed her pup, and her name was Alysanne.

Ghost did not think of her by such name.  It was far too long for such a tiny thing, for starters, and it had been shortened immediately by everyone who laid eyes on Jon’s perfect babe.

Well, almost perfect.  It seemed to Ghost she could do with a bit more hair, the tiny girl possessing little more than a cap of wispy silver curls.

Silver Dany called her Little Aly, and so the dragons did as well; Even Rhaegal had adopted the name, to Ghost’s surprise.

Because Jon called her Sweet Aly, and that was the only name that seemed right to the direwolf.  She was the sweetest little thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and since the day she’d come squalling into Ghost’s pack he had known no greater purpose than to sit himself beside her little cradle and wrap his large body around the frame.  He could spend endless hours asleep with her, lounging in the newly-returned blaze of the sun as it passed along the stone floor.

Jon wanted Ghost by Sweet Aly always, and so he would be.  He was her silent sentinel, the eyes that always watched over her, the shadow that lay in wait for anyone stupid enough to dare harm his sweet girl.

So he gave in to the quiver of pity he felt for Drogon, trying to make himself sound as understanding as possible, as he knew the cause for her distress.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to that babe.”  He growled, giving her a flash of fang, blood still painting his muzzle from his almost-finished meal.  “Ever.”

Drogon watched him, red eyes clashing with gold, her eyes challenging him as she suddenly charged, black scaly body heaving as she came within inches of his whiskers.  “See that you don’t.  Or you shall swiftly learn just how quickly you can die.”  Her steaming jaws cracked wide, razor sharp fangs the size of his head on full display.  “Or how slowly.”

Ghost gave no reaction, holding those amber eyes with his blood-red ones, leisurely standing and stretching.  Finally he chuffed, dipping his head to rub his cheek against scales as hot as a furnace, marking her as pack once more before she left.  “Be on your fucking way, already.”

Drogon gave one last great, gusting exhale, the sort she knew he hated, the sort that blew his fur back against the grain.  “Behave yourself, you little shit.”  She shifted back, giving Rhaegal one last, pointed glare, then spun around in a manner surprisingly graceful for a creature of such overwhelming mass and bulk.

She was gone in a swirl of wind and loud flapping of wings, giving a final, trumpeting cry, leaving wolf and dragon alone to say their goodbyes.

“Well,” Rhaegal sighed grimly, “that went well, all things considered.”  Ghost came close, repeating the gesture he’d performed on the female dragon, taking care to rub both cheeks against each side of his large green jaws.

“I’m confused,” Ghost said, finishing up his task and padding back to look up into the dragon’s face.  “If you need to fuck an egg into her why can’t you just do it here?”

Rhaegal swung his snout towards the keep.  “It takes a great deal of magic to make an egg, brother.  We must have complete solitude for such mighty works.”

Ghost snorted.  “That,” he huffed, “was the most grandiose horseshit you’ve ever spouted.”  Rhaegal just gave him another put-upon sigh, shaking his head and resting his head upon the ground so he could speak quietly.  That was the odd thing, with these dragons, they always seemed to think someone was listening.  “You make it sound like you’re taking her off for one massive, glorious fuck.  The fuck to end all fucks.”

Rhaegal blinked at him, slowly, then titled his head slightly.  “Well, I wouldn’t put it so crassly.  But essentially.”  He gave Ghost a doleful look.  “In the most simplistic terms you might say that’s what we’re off to do.”

Ghost stared on, expectantly.  “I’m not such a fucking simpleton that I missed the implication there, lad.  But you already get up to your shenanigans here.”

Rhaegal seemed to be thinking, claws clacking together as he mused.  “Little Aly is a special babe.  We must make her a special dragon.  The power we must build, what we will unleash in the process…”  He trailed off, ticking his great head back towards the Keep as he spoke in hushed tones.  “It would level everything for miles.  It is not safe here for such undertakings.”

Ghost stayed silent, pondering the dragon’s words.  Of the two it was Drogon who was prone to bouts of exaggeration, leaving the truth at the core of her tales to be whispered in the night air by Rhaegal after she would leave to hunt.  And there was no doubting the truth of his words about his Sweet Aly.

There was power in her.  He was not sure if it was something Jon and Silver Dany were aware of; They loved their little pup as all parents did, hard and fierce and deep as the sea, but it was not given to them to feel what their beasts did, it seemed to him.

But Ghost could feel it.  She was full to the brim of it, something that made him feel like he’d woken up to a warm spring morning each time her tiny fist tangled in his fur.  She would be a mighty thing, if they could protect her, if they could keep her safe.

Yes, Ghost thought.  Sweet Aly needed a dragon of her own.

“Right then.”  The wolf gave a short nod to his scaled brother.  “Off with you.  Best of luck on the fucking, though I will remind you I want to hear absolutely nothing of it when you return.”

“A warning, brother.”  Rhaegal stood, shaking and preening before drawing himself up to stand proudly, a majestic picture of green and bronze and fire and smoke.  “Remember.”  He craned his neck down, curving over Ghost’s smaller form, close enough that they shared the same air.  “Protect mother.  Protect our girl.”  A rumbling growl sprung from the dragon’s chest.  “You and I, we are monsters of familiar form.  But if he loses them,” the dragon’s voice sounded more menacing than he’d ever heard, “there will be none that draw breath that will be safe from his fury.”

“And we will be his weapons of war.”  Ghost knew how it went, this mantra they repeated between themselves.  For there was a monster inside of Jon, as well, and it had been born inside him with the arrival of Silver Dany, who he loved above all others.  But when Sweet Aly had loosed that first loud, piercing cry into the night, that transformation had been complete.  No man could command both dragon and wolf without having something of an animal within himself, and Jon had both.

Between the three, that night, between the thread that bound them by skin and scale, had bloomed a dark understanding.  They were all monsters, all three, or they could be.  Silver Dany and Sweet Aly were the things that could not be lost.  They comprised the entirety of Jon’s heart.

If Jon’s heart was lost, Ghost knew there would be no quarter given, no mercy shown, no limit to the destruction the man would be capable of.  It was only the goodness inside Jon that held back the creatures he commanded from such ruthless pursuits, even now.  It was Jon’s humanity that kept them at bay, and they all knew it.  If that tether snapped, it would mean little more than death and chaos and misery for the rest of their days.

“Aye.”  Rhaegal sounded grave, swinging his head up to spy Drogon circling impatiently above.  “See that it does not come to that.”

He was off without another word, his wings beating against the air to catch up with his mate.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes steady on the Keep before he turned to sniff at the remains of his meal.

“Well,” he complained, to no one at all, “now I’ve lost my appetite.”

\-----------------------

By the third night, Ghost was at his wit’s end.  Jon and Silver Dany were restless, impatient; Both seemed a little unnerved by the absence of the dragons, and he tried not to take it too personally.

It would be a sweet relief, when they returned on the morrow, for his vigil by his Sweet Aly had been unrelenting, the wolf finding little time for sleep in his determination to stay alert to any and all signs of danger.

Jon’s hand did not stray from the pommel of his sword until it was removed for bed.

Silver Dany had acquired a short sword for herself, one that her armies used, the silent men in their black leathers.  Jon and his deadly little wolf of a sister had been showing his mate how to use it, and it remained within arm’s reach no matter where Jon’s Queen wandered.

He could see the glint of it now, in the moonlight, the rustle of Jon preparing for bed in the adjoining room little more than a murmur to him above the sounds that surrounded him now.

Silver Dany had her babe at breast, smiling softly down at the tiny girl’s little face.  Jon’s mate hummed a soft song, trailing a finger across a small, downy cheek before giving Ghost a long, scraping scratch down his spine.

He sat at attention beside the petite woman, a guardian fit for close quarters, only breaking his watchful pose to arch as she hit that special notch in his spine that made him groan.

“Are you faring well, dear boy?”  She whispered to him softly, mindful of Sweet Aly’s drooping eyelids, the babe’s suckling slowing as she dropped off to sleep.  Ghost looked down at her, panting, giving her a lick on the forehead.  She didn’t understand him, not the way Jon did, but she understood enough.

She was a strong woman, a hard woman, a warrior shoved into a small frame, and as stubborn and hard-headed as Jon.  And though he loved Jon in a way he loved no other, Ghost loved her, too.  Ghost admired in her what he admired in her dragon.  In this pair, just as with their dragons, Ghost knew who the true alpha was.

Jon could be, if he wished it.  Silver Dany yielded to no one, but the few times Jon had pressed his case she relented easily enough.  But Ghost knew Jon’s heart, and he knew the man had no desire to conquer this Dragon Queen.  The wild freedom of her was a beautiful thing, in Jon’s mind, and Silver Dany was no thing that would be tamed.

Silver Dany stood, carefully, not wishing to disturb Ghost’s precious little pup as she tucked her away in to her cradle.  He watched her sweep her palm across Sweet Aly’s curls, then lean down to press a kiss to the babe’s head.

And then she came, smiling, to stand before Ghost, giving him firm pats of most pleasing pressure and hugging him around his wide neck.  “Be a good boy.”

He fought back a chiding chuff, because Silver Dany was smiling at him when she pulled back, and he knew she was teasing him.  She could be a silly little thing, Ghost knew, and she liked to make Jon laugh, and the wolf liked that just fine.

As she pulled open the door that joined their chambers to the babe’s she stopped, beginning to tug her shift back up to cover her chest, and he felt an impatient dread when he heard Jon call out to his wife.

“Now don’t go putting those away, Dany, I’ve a mind to see them for a spell.”

Fucking perfect.

He heard Silver Dany giggle before she scolded him in a loud whisper.  “Jon!”  She peeked back at Ghost as he tucked himself around the cradle as always, the shadows in the room tucking him into a blanket of darkness.  That would be all well and good, he supposed, but those shadows weren’t going to muffle the festivities that were about to be underway in the next room.  “You’re going to wake her!”

He thanked the Old Gods when Jon’s Queen pulled the door shut, Jon’s reply the last thing he heard clearly.

“Then I guess you’d better come keep my mouth occupied.”

Ghost huffed to himself, tucking his head under a paw and settling in for the night.

\----------------------

It was not the sound of the latch that awoke him from a most unfortunate doze.

He heard it, of course, but by then he’d been fully awake, fully aware, silent though his heart pumped with dread in his chest.

It was the smell.

Sour, foul, acrid.  An oily, nervous sweat, the sort that signaled something terrible was about to happen.

Oh, no.  No, this would not stand, this he would not allow.

He listened, barely breathing, not wanting to give away his presence.  One heartbeat, then another.  He heard the scrape of a blade and real terror bloomed hot and sharp in his chest.

 _Jon_ , he thought.  _Oh, Jon, you’d better wake up, you damned idiot.  Wake up wake up wake up come quick you must come now!_

Ghost felt Jon awaken, and he crept, watching with perfect clarity in the dark as two men lingered at the door.  They did not speak a word, only peering about as their eyes adjusted.  No.  He would not give them that opportunity.

The massive wolf struck, quick as lightning, the larger man nearest him only managing a choked gasp before Ghost had his throat between two powerful, snapping jaws.  Hesitation was an unknown thing, fury burning through his veins, and he crushed the man’s windpipe in one great, crunching bite.

The man gave a strong twitch and Ghost only bit down harder, grinding his teeth, glorying in the fucker’s screams.  He wanted to make it hurt, wanted nothing more than this man’s agony, but from the corner of his eye he saw the other man move, and he dropped the dead weight with a heavy thud.

Jon burst through the door just as Ghost whirled around, cornering the smaller man, sneering and snarling and waiting on for Jon’s word to give this man the gift of a most painful death.  The man whimpered, a knife flashing in his hand, trembling as the tip of Jon’s blade touched the hollow of his throat.

“Who sent you?”  Jon sounded more beast than man, his growl as threatening as any Ghost might conjure up, shirtless and wild-eyed and full of such righteous fury that it made the wolf shudder down to his very soul.

“The Lannisters send their regards.”  Something hot and heavy slammed itself into Ghost’s mind just then, a wrath so deep and endless that he marveled it must have been the green dragon.

He was wrong, though.  It was Jon.  Jon and Silver Dany who had swept in hurriedly, taking her babe and holding her against her chest.

And Jon did not need to speak to Ghost, in that moment, because Ghost knew what Jon wanted. 

 _Kill_ , came the whisper in his soul.  _Destroy him.  End him.  Protect your pack._

It was what Ghost wanted, too.

Jon had barely pulled his blade back before Ghost struck, a final time, a shriek of terror escaping before Ghost made sure this man would speak no more.  And as he punctured skin and spilled the filthy traitor’s blood, as he crunched bone and snapped tendon, he thought he’d like nothing better than to see this man’s head removed clean off his body.  Just to be sure, of course.  Just to be safe.

So he did.

“Good boy.”  Jon laid a heavy, trembling hand on Ghost’s back, waiting until the wolf had relaxed before coming closer, looking down at the wolf’s handiwork and burying his face in Ghost’s fur.

“Good boy, Ghost.”  Tears began to fall hot, a brittle sob shaking Jon’s chest, Silver Dany’s soft, moaning cry rising to join the chorus.  Jon’s arms wrapped around the wolf’s neck, his brother collapsing against him as Ghost felt the anger that roiled through them both withdraw to a hot, steaming simmer.  Now it was overshadowed by shock, and horror, and relief.  “What a good boy you are.”

The wolf was silent, his eyes only meant for Sweet Aly now.  His pup was safe, and that was what mattered.

\----------------

The dragons returned with the dawn, and with them they brought such a screaming, awful fury that the people in the Keep shook with it.

They were angry.

They knew, he had no doubt.  Whatever it was that lay between wolf and dragon and man existed between Silver Dany and her dragon as well, and the pair were so wroth that Jon and his mate had been forced to exert a great deal of their own will in keeping the beasts from storming their way into the Keep.

Ghost had been looking forward to some much longed-for sleep, but Jon had other plans, sending him out to see if he could settle down the unruly creatures before everyone at Winterfell pissed themselves collectively.

“BRING THEM TO ME!”  He’d set one fucking paw into the clearing they paced when Drogon was upon him.  “I WILL SEE THEM BURN!  TRAITORS!”

“They’re dead.”  Ghost looked between the two.  “You can be fucking sure of that.”

Drogon was still seething, the back of her throat glowing red with barely-suppressed rage.  “Good.”  Her tail swished angrily.  “And my mother?”

Ghost rolled his eyes.  “She’s fine.  They’re all fine.”  He narrowed his eyes, gazing up at the great black dragon.  “Besides, you’ll get your chance to rain your fire down on them.”  Ghost cast his red gaze to Rhaegal, who was watching him intently, the green dragon’s own fury barely under control.  “You’re off to war, soon, to kill the bitch who set murderers on Sweet Aly.”

A dark and malevolent fury appeared in Drogon’s eyes, and she turned slowly to stare at Rhaegal, who let a rumble begin in his chest as he nodded in agreement.  “With pleasure,” the green dragon muttered, his anger barely cooled.

Drogon turned back to him, suddenly, considering.  “Are you coming?”

“No.”  Ghost stood taller, his back straight, ears and tail held high in the slowly thawing northern air.  “I’m to stay here, with Sweet Aly.  War is no place for a babe.”

It was Rhaegal who scoffed at the idea, but he knew it was fear, and not doubt that prompted his brother’s response.  “They mean to leave her here?  Without at least one dragon to guard her?”

Ghost shrugged, glancing between the two and wondering if what he had imagined was good-natured ribbing was truly a lack of faith in his own ability to fight for his family.  He wasn’t as big as they were, it was true, and maybe he didn’t breathe fire, but he could deal death out as surely as they did, if not a bit messier.

“She will have Ghost.”  Rhaegal looked on in surprise as Drogon spoke, and it was a sensation the wolf felt as well, followed swiftly and embarrassingly by a rush of pride within Ghost’s heart.  “That will be enough.”

“Aye.”  Rhaegal gave a nod, the two dragons shifting and settling now that their tempers had begun to cool.  “It will have to be.”

“You’re fucking right that’s enough.”  Ghost muttered loudly as he glared at the two.  “It’s more than fucking enough.”

“Oh, do be quiet.”  Drogon’s rare belief in him had sifted away, her mood returning to it’s formerly thorny state.  “Smugness is a very unattractive quality in someone so small.”

Rhaegal’s chuckle earned the green dragon a scowl from Ghost.  “Where’s this magical egg, then?”

Jon’s dragon only smiled a secret smile at the wolf’s question, his eyes meeting Drogon’s over Ghost’s head.  “You will see,” Rhaegal intoned, “when it is time.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of your riddles and half-answers?”  Ghost narrowed his eyes, wondering that the green dragon persisted in refusing to give a direct answer.  “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Drogon swept her wings in the melting snows around her, green grass starting to peek through as winter slowly came to a close.  “That’s because you are an idiot, and that’s hardly his fault.”

And she was nothing but amused as he rolled his eyes, giving him a simpering smile as she set drew her limbs up, curling and relaxing into sleepy repose.  “When the girl is ready, she will hatch my egg.  Until then you will have to wait.”

“Until then you will have to wait,” he repeated back, mocking her even as he stepped over to where Rhaegal lay, easing himself down against the green dragon’s warm side, sleep calling him as surely as it did them.

The dragons were home, and his watch had ended.

At least for a few hours.


End file.
